Scandalous
by TemptingTemptation
Summary: One night of scandalous passion will change Bulma's life forever. V/B
1. Chapter 1

I don't own or profit from DBZ, but we all know how I feel about Vegeta.

**Scandalous**

Bulma shoved one more jeweled pin into her hair as she twisted around to see her backside in the mirror. She smiled in victory as it reflected what she already knew. She was drop dead gorgeous, and knew how to work it.

She wore a backless, scarlet gown with a scooped front that was modest, but tantalizingly low enough to catch any admirer's attention. The silk skirt fell in a waterfall of folds to her ankles instead of her normally thigh length dresses, a concession she made for tonight's party. Her legs were too perfect to be incased in nylon, instead she massaged scented lotion on her freshly waxed skin, and slipped on some strappy heels. The outcome was sexy, but still professional enough for tonight's literary fiction gala.

Everyone was to come dressed as character from a novel. Her dress wasn't nearly in the ballpark of fictionally correct, but there was no way she was going dress in drab colors and itchy wool. Her final addition to her costume was a small square of paper she pinned to her bodice, drawing attention to her superb cleavage.

As she preened in the mirror, a flickering shadow outside her window caught her attention. She turned in time to see Vegeta fly by on his way to his room, a black scowl plastered firmly on his face. She huffed in frustration as she realized what that meant. She had expected him to stay in the Gravity Room most of the night as usual, but if he was out roaming around now, it was a sure bet that he would try to go downstairs later. That was something she absolutely could not allow. She had three hundred of the most important corporate, political, and cultural figures in West City coming tonight. The last thing she needed was one or more to being fried by a cranky alien on a power trip.

She checked her appearance one last time before leaving her room to make her way to Vegeta. He was housed in the west wing, and she had to traverse two long corridors, stopping to convey instructions to any passing staff, before she reached his room at the very end. The hall window was open, the sheer white curtains blowing in the light summer breeze. She thought about telling to upstairs maid to keep it closed at all times, after all Capsule Corp was a rich target for thieves, but she realized it would be fruitless. Vegeta would no doubt keep opening it. The man seemed to have a phobia with closed spaces. As she lifted her hand to knock, her knuckles brushed the smooth wood. The door slid open a crack, but it might as well have been the Grand Canyon from the view it revealed. There, picture perfect between the white, painted frame and the door stood Vegeta, naked as the day he was born.

His back was to her as he rummaged through his dresser drawer. Thick slabs of muscle stood in stark relief on either side of his spine, flexing and rippling under delicious bronze, almost gold, skin. She followed the line of his spine, exhaling through her mouth when she realized that the decadent tint of his skin remained creamy caramel from head to heel.

He bent over the dresser, his butt cheeks flexing, showing deep divots on each side. Bulma's mouth watered with the need to run her tongue along his salty skin, to taste him, to feel him, to absorb him. She wanted to sink her teeth into his flesh. Her eyes flitted up to his strong shoulders as he straightened. At first she wondered why there weren't any scars on the battle-hardened soldier, but her logical mind reasoned that he was a Saiyan. Any wounds he might have gotten would have healed long before they could have scarred, leaving his body smooth and unmarked. Absolutely perfect.

As her whimsical side and logical side discussed the perfection of Vegeta's body, a third voice sounded. It was the deep, dark one, which whispered to her to take the last piece of chocolate cake or reassured her that one more drink wouldn't hurt. Right now it was screaming at her. It wanted to know what Vegeta looked like from the front. She had secretly admired him for weeks as he strutted around in his training shorts, completely ignoring the fact that they were skin tight and wholly inappropriate.

Vegeta turned his head, looking at something out of her sight. He moved towards it, leaving her view. She waited with baited breath, eager to see him return. Minutes flitted by, but he remained unseen. She stretched up on her tip toes, trying to peek further into the room without dislodging the door.

"Enjoying the show?"

Bulma jumped three feet-straight into Vegeta's bedroom. Flame-faced, hand on her chest in fright, she spun around. Her mouth was gaping open to explain, but no words came out. She was paralyzed, her brain unable to function. Even her wicked no-no voice was momentarily stunned into silence.

Vegeta was leisurely leaning against the door frame, his arms and legs crossed in nonchalance. He looked taller, his muscles thicker and more defined. Of course, that could be because he was totally naked.

Bulma couldn't stop her eyes from roaming down his heavily muscled chest, stopping briefly to take in his bulging biceps. As mouth watering as the sight was, that did nothing to stop her from looking lower. There he was in the buff, hanging out for all to see. Her breathing stuttered to a stop, and her hand reflectively curled into a fist. He was absolutely gorgeous. Not handsome or well formed, or all those other pretty boy words. He was drop dead sexy, and by the smirk on his face, he knew it.

He must have noticed that she was staring at him with more than just a scientific interest, because he began to grow, stretching and expanding…enlarging…showing his interest in her interest.

"See something you like?" Vegeta's raw, sensual voice was almost unrecognizable. Bulma never heard him speak in such restrained tones unless he was making a deadly threat, and even then it didn't hold nearly the amount of huskiness as it did now.

Bulma's eyes shot up to his, her body warming at the sight of hard desire in his eyes. Her paralysis broke, and all at once she gathered herself, leaping for the door. Before she could think of the futility of it, she gripped the edge of the door, and slammed it with all her might.

The door crashed, but not against the jam. It flew against the wall, held in place by Vegeta's spread hand in the center panel. All at once the air in the room was sucked away, leaving Bulma's chest heaving with the frantic need to breathe. Vegeta stood in the doorway, his chin angled slightly downward, desire and anger simmering in his eyes. Something rumbled around her, and it took precious seconds for her to realize that it was Vegeta. She backed away. Slowly he advanced. He flicked the door shut behind him with a twist of his wrist, matching her step for step as they crossed the room. Too soon she ran out of space, the backs of her legs coming to rest against the dresser.

His eyes never left hers, their inky darkness becoming blacker with intensity. He was fully erect now, the excitement of her fear, and the thrill of stalking her cumulating into a sexual fantasy that was delicious to him.

"What are you doing here?" he rasped out, uncaring of her reason, but curious of her intrusion. Usually she made herself absent whenever he was about. He was almost certain it had nothing to do with fear, and more to do with her attraction to him. He couldn't say that it was one sided either. He definitely felt a pull when he looked at her. Tonight would be perfect to appease his curiosity.

Bulma snapped back to reality at his words. She didn't have time to dally with her live-in guest. His appearance, and Capsule Corporation's silence on the matter was already driving the media into a feeding frenzy. The last thing she needed to do was add to it by appearing from his rooms as a disheveled mess. She pressed her thighs together. Besides Yamcha was waiting for her…

She straightened her spine and pursed her lips, unwittingly appearing even more appealing to the Saiyan Prince. He was hard pressed not to grin menacingly at her when she did that. She had no idea how exotic she looked. So small and frail, poising herself to do battle. It was utterly beguiling.

"I'm having a party tonight. I wanted to make it clear that you are not allowed downstairs. I will have more than enough food sent up to you, but I don't want you causing any trouble." Bulma wagged her finger at him as she delivered her tirade, confirming Vegeta's thoughts that she definitely wasn't afraid, which meant…

He lashed out, quicker than her sight could follow, and snatched her hand out of the air. He pulled her into him, only her sheer strength of will keeping her from colliding with his naked torso. Her caged hand hovered centimeters from his muscular chest, her blue gaze caught in the twisted vortex of his.

"You didn't have to come all this way to tell me that. You could have called." He tipped his head, indicating the intercom on the wall.

Bulma blushed, certain that only her spine kept her from melting. He was right of course, she could have called him. Why hadn't it occurred to her to do that?

"I wanted to make sure that I was clear." She was proud that her voice didn't waver, that her eyes didn't drop from his to the temptation of his naked body.

"You know I have no liking for social gatherings, and would have made an effort to avoid them at all costs. I think you came with another reason in mind."

He stepped into her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. Her red lips parted in a gasp as her palm connected with his hot flesh. He felt inhumanly feverish to the touch. Nor did his muscles feel remotely human. They were hard like marble, impenetrable and unbreakable. There was nothing about Vegeta that screamed mortality. He was youth and vitality embodied. It drew her like a moth to a flame. She desperately wanted the heat of a man on top of her, inside her. A man who was hard for her, because she was a temptation, not because she was an old habit.

"There was no other reason, Vegeta. I just know how pissy you can be sometimes. I didn't want you coming downstairs in search of some schmuck to fry because you had a bad day of training. I have business to run you know. I just can't have you…"

Her endless rambling of nervous words were devoured by Vegeta in a hungry kiss. Everything she was going to say was lost to the sensation of his lips on hers, the enormity of the situation. He pressed her back against the bureau, gathering her up into his arms. Caught in the moment, she tangled her fingers into his hair, pressing his mouth down on hers.

She hadn't felt this on fire for years. A decade with the same man had left her painfully passionless. Vegeta awoke something in her. It wasn't just his looks. It was his scent, his pride. The way he spoke, the way he walked. How he somehow got everything he wanted without having to ask. He was all man. Pure and unbridled. And she wanted nothing more than to be the woman he sank himself into.

"Bulma, dear. Are you in there? One of the maids said she saw you heading towards Vegeta's room."

Bulma felt cold water crash down on her as her mother's voice cracked from the intercom. She pushed Vegeta away, with more strength than should have been possible. He let her go for the moment, stalking her with his eyes as she stumbled over to the intercom.

"Yah, I'm here. I was just—" She glanced guiltily at Vegeta. He was standing with his arms crossed, watching her with unsettling intensity. Her eyes dropped. The flushed head of his cock was brushing against his belly as it strained towards some desired goal. That goal, she knew, was her. Her gaze shot back up to Vegeta's face, her cheeks reddening at the confident grin he flashed her.

"Sweetie, the party is beginning. You should be here to greet the guests."

Bulma broke her gaze away from Vegeta, nervously primping her hair with one hand as she replied to her mother.

"Yes, of course. I'll be down in a moment."

No sooner had she released the call button than she felt warm breath on the back of her neck. The fine hairs down her spine stood on end, as if every fiber of her being was straining to touch Vegeta.

"It's going to take longer than a moment. I'm thinking at least half the night. Maybe longer, if your frail, human body can keep pace."

She shuttered as his black velvet words wound themselves around her. He was so close to her, that she felt trapped in the moment. Time stopped, and the world became the space between their bodies, ending just outside the range touch. Her hand was still resting against the intercom, her long white fingers pressed against the buttons. On her forefinger was a band of gold filigree, decorated with diamond chips. A gift…

She curled her hand into a fist, her manicured nails, scraping loudly across the plastic plate.

"I have a boyfriend." She shrugged Vegeta off, refusing to look at him. "And a party that needs hosting. I don't have time for your nonsense, Vegeta."

Exhaling, she burst the bubble around them, and strode to the door. As she twisted the door knob, a growl swelled in the room. Every cell on her body went into over-drive. Fight or flight instinct overwhelmed her brain. She jerked open the door, hiked up her skirt, and fled down the corridor as fast as her three-inch heels would allow.

She didn't slow until she heard the faint peals of laughter below. Panting hard, her heart still pounding in her chest, she strove for calm as she oriented herself. When her mother first married Professor Briefs, Bunny had insisted the bachelor pad be renovated for entertaining. That meant adding a full-sized ballroom, complete with upper story balconies. Bulma rounded the corner to the upstairs hall that opened into three of the balconies on the west side of the ballroom. At the far end of the hall was the staircase leading down to the party.

She was tucking up stray hairs that had come undone during her flight as she passed the middle balcony when someone grabbed her from behind. She felt a brush of fabric against her face, as she was carried behind the curtain, into the balcony. The previously muted strains of the live orchestra became deafening, and the bright lights of the huge gold and crystal chandeliers nearly blinded her.

Bulma didn't have time to think on the matter as she was pressed face first into the cool marble wall. Behind her she could feel the overwhelming heat of the man who trapped her.

"I didn't say you could go," Vegeta whispered in her ear.

It only took Bulma a moment to understand what trouble she was in. She braced her palms against the wall, trying to push away, but Vegeta held her firmly.

"When a woman says, no she means it, Vegeta."

"Very true. And I respect that." He trailed his fingers along the edge of her backless gown, tiny flutters that tickled the beginning swell of her breast and her ribs. Bulma's nipples hardened, and she had to swallow at the sudden dryness of her mouth. "However, I don't think the word no has actually been used yet." His warm breath rustled the hairs behind her ear, and it was all she could do not to buck back into him in invitation.

"You wouldn't dare do anything here."

"Why not? No one is looking."

Bulma swallowed. "I'll scream."

The backless cut of Bulma's dress allowed Vegeta to skim his hand inside her gown. His palm slid over her taunt belly until his fingertips brushed the tops of her silk panties. The press of his hand on her midriff nudged her to lift her heels up off the ground, which pressed her backside into him more deeply.

"I dare you."

His tone was filled with taunting, but there was unexpected warmth as well. Vegeta was playing a game of cat and mouse with her. As disconcerting as that was, she was struck with the very real thought, that for Vegeta, she was the only mouse that would do, and that opened up a whole other level of disconcertedness, which somehow wasn't all that bad.

"The party—"

"Can wait."

"The guests—"

"Won't hear."

"Yamcha—"

Vegeta growled, withdrawing from her so completely she felt instantly bereft. He pulled her from the wall, sitting her down on the rose settee situated against the wall just inside the closed curtain of the balcony. She leaned back into the couch as Vegeta towered over her. Before chasing after her, he had thrown on a pair of tight black pants, and a white shirt which he had left unbuttoned. At her height she could see the indent of his belly button, the hollow ring looking utterly lick-able amidst the rock hardness of his abs.

Quickly she scanned the balcony. It was festooned with the same deep purple velvet as the entrance, creating a resting area for people who wanted to remain hidden from the crush below. The only way to be seen from the ground was to stand next to the banister. As they were, with curtains draped on either side, no one would see them unless they stood up, and stepped to the edge of the balcony.

Vegeta leaned in with predatory slowness, casually resting one hand on the polished arm of the settee and the other on the back of the couch, pinning her in. Hypnotised, Bulma watched the edges of his lips curl into a wicked smile that could melt stone.

"Is inadequate."

"How would you know?" Bulma spat back. Angered, more at herself than anything, she pushed at Vegeta, struggling to stand up, and escape. A part of her knew he was right. She had been feeling unsatisfied with Yamacha for several years. She knew it had less to do with Yamacha's skills as a loving boyfriend, and more to do with her changing tastes. Yamacha was still Yamacha, but Bulma was different now, and she felt an immense amount of guilt about it. If Yamacha hadn't changed, then why was it that her love for him changed?

Vegeta sneered. He shoved the settee, upsetting it so it came off its front feet, and the back rested against the wall. Bulma blurted out a tiny scream she instantly stifled for fear someone would hear. She looked up at Vegeta, appalled at her position.

She tried to haul herself up, but with Vegeta blocking her way there was no way for her to get off the couch.

"If he wasn't, you wouldn't be so desperate."

Rage leapt to life inside the part of Bulma that had lived life uninterested until this moment. She slapped Vegeta across the face, hard enough to make her hand sting-hard enough to make him laugh, if he was so inclined. Instead he dropped the settee, reaching for her. He hauled her up, lifting her over his head by her waist, to press his nose between the vee of her legs. She suppressed her scream of shock when he dropped the couch, but her gasped protest was audible out into the hall as he rubbed his face against her.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, struggling against him.

"If you weren't desperate, I wouldn't be able to smell it on you every time we cross paths. It is strongest here, but the stink of it covers you from head to foot."

He loosened his grip, sliding her down until he could hold her beneath her arms. She was suspended above the ground like a boneless doll, as he sniffed under her breast, along her collar bone, and against her neck.

"I can smell it here too. Strumming beneath the skin. All that desperation and disappointment. Need. Want. All of it balled up inside you, looking for a way out."

He nuzzled the underside of her chin, near her ear. Bulma's heart was thumping in her chest, and she had to struggle to breathe. Her hands were resting on the tops of his wrists. Not because she was afraid of falling, but because she didn't want to lose contact with him. No one had ever seen inside her like that. No one had even bothered to try before. No, that wasn't right. Vegeta wasn't trying to do anything. He just knew. He knew her insides better than she did.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she gasped, before marshalling her anger. "And I absolutely demand that you stop manhandling me. I'm a person, not some bendy sex toy. Put me down!"

He stood her up on the couch, and her heels dug into the soft cushions, leaving her slightly unbalanced. His hands were light on her hips to steady her, but he stood arms length away to look up at her.

The anger he flashed her made her tense.

"So tell me. What does this _boy_ friend do for you? Do you _let_ him touch you here?"

His hand tightened on her waist, and she could feel the press of his fingertips along the curve of her back as he lowered his other hand to dip beneath the hem of her dress. He wrapped his hand around her ankle, sliding up, so his fingers skimmed behind her knee.

She thought to stop him, but she was frozen beneath his touch. When she didn't protest, he continued upwards, his dark eyes challenging her. He reached her upper thigh, and she shifted beneath his touch, widening her stance just the tiniest bit. Vegeta smiled in a way that made her shiver.

"Does he—"

"Stop," she demanded, and he froze. "Don't talk about what he does to me. I don't want to think about it."

"You haven't wanted to think about for a long time."

She didn't reply, but met his stare with one of her own. She jumped when she felt his thumb brush the outside of her silk panties. Hot, wet desire coursed through her. Tiny tingles of anticipation fluttered at the base of her stomach, something she hadn't felt since she was a teenager.

"He makes love to me. There are you satisfied? He loves me. I love him. And we do the hokey pokey. Now let me down."

She attempted to step down, but Vegeta closed the distance between them, his chest against her knees. Somehow his other hand got beneath her dress and he was holding her steady with a strong grip on the backs of her thighs.

"So you are telling me that all that emptiness I hear echoing inside of you is because you haven't had a good, hard fuck?"

Bulma's mouth dropped open, as she stared down at him.

"There is more to relationships than fucking, Vegeta."

He smiled at her as if he knew a secret she didn't. He slid his hands under her silk panties, cupping her butt cheeks in his palms. She shoved at his arms. This was getting out of hand now.

"Good thing I'm not looking for a relationship." He bit the flare of her hip, and she nearly collapsed over his shoulder at the pure pleasure it evoked. If it wasn't for the unadulterated cockiness in his tone as he spoke to her, she probably would have let him cart her off like a caveman's prize. As it was that tone made her angrier than the words themselves. She didn't want to be someone's good time fuck. She liked being in a relationship. He had no right to infer that being in one was meaningless. That relationships were passionless.

"You're someone to talk about emptiness. I've never seen such a hollow shell of a man. What do you have going for you, Vegeta? So fucking lonely you poach from other men."

Vegeta released her. So quickly that she nearly tumbled off her precarious perch on the couch. By the time she had righted herself, Vegeta had retreated a few feet away, his arms crossed, and his features stamped with imperial aloofness.

"Bored is more like it. So fucking bored on this backwater world, that I would lower myself to play around with a worthless human such as yourself. I forgot myself for a moment, but be assured it will never happen again."

Bulma scowled at him to cover the hurt and sudden loneliness she felt welling up inside her. Awkwardly, she climbed down from the couch, a near dangerous thing in her high heels. Vegeta made no move to help her, but from beneath her lowered lashes she noticed how closely he watched her.

She didn't say anything as she moved towards the curtain. Behind her she could hear the laughter of the guests, and the swell of Vivaldi's Spring dancing through the air. She gripped the curtain to push it aside, but she couldn't seem to do anything more than hold on. The dark voice was whispering to a sleeping place inside of her, nudging it with words of temptation. A pall of waiting fell across her. She was waiting for him to stop her. To pursue her. To make her heart race. But there was only angry silence emanating from him.

"Why are you pursuing me? It's not like you can't find tail anywhere. Jesus, you're a fucking god practically. You could get any woman to do all the dirty, little deeds you could conjure up in the deep, dark brain of yours. Not chase after a woman whose been having the same boring sex for ten years.

Still there was only silence from him. She could feel the weight of each individual year of her life with Yamcha pile up on her slender shoulders. It wasn't that she didn't love him. She did. But at what point does being _in_ love just turn into loving? When does passion become companionship? Life lasted such a long time. Was this how it was it supposed to be lived, or was it supposed to be filled with adventure, thrills and maybe a little danger?

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he snapped back, as if words, any words were biting at his tongue to be spoken.

"I shouldn't have spoken so cruelly. But you were cruel too, Vegeta. People don't like to have their weaknesses waved about for all to see."

There was a soft sound as he shifted his weight.

"I don't care-understand relationships," he gritted out. "But it is not my right to comment on yours."

"I've loved Yamacha for ten years."

"Are we done now?" Vegeta snapped, flexing forward as if to leave, but stopping when he realized he would have to brush against her to escape. She reached beneath her hair, tugging on the clasp that kept her dress in place. The scarlet folds cascaded down her body, catching briefly on her round hips before pooling on the floor around her strappy red shoes.

"But he doesn't give me what I need."

She waited for what seemed to be an eternity, staring at the purple velvet folds in front of her.

"So I'm just supposed to let you use me for your own carnal delight?"

Bulma glanced over her creamy white shoulder at Vegeta. Inside she was raging with fear and anticipation, but her countenance only showed hunger.

"It seems to me, Vegeta. That's the type of relationship you can understand."

A low vibrating growl echoed through the room, and the fine hairs on her neck stood on end. In a fraction of a moment, he was behind her, radiating heat and raw sex.

"I'm not going to make love to you. I'm going to fuck you. It's going to be quick and a little dirty, and in the end you'll have forgotten all about your precious relationships."

"Quick?" Her voice wavered. Her skin twitched on her back where his breath feathered over her.

"You do have a party to get to."

He grasped her by the back of the neck, steering her to the settee. She knelt down on the cushions, wrapping her hands around the wooden back for support. Vegeta kicked her ankles apart, and she could feel the coarse brush fabric from his pants along the backs of her thighs. His fingers were sliding along the outside of her panties, playing with her clit through the silk. Her grip on the frame tightened, her breath was coming in pants as she pressed back into the palm of his hand. He was over her, licking kisses along her spine, cloaking her from the outside world. She felt his fingers curl, his knuckles pressing against her swollen flesh as he tore away her panties. His hand was replaced by his long, hard cock that slipped between her cheeks, sliding along her cleft without entering her. He tangled his fingers through the twist in her hair, pulling painfully at her scalp until she reared up. Her naked back was pressed against his chest. He was hot where his shirt didn't cover him. So hot she felt like melting over him like candle wax.

"Do you feel that?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes."

"That is real desire. Not some luke-warm response to years of habit. You asked, why you? Because, I want you. Bent over, sucking my cock, face to face. I don't care. I just want to fuck you."

One of his hands cupped her breast, rolling her pearled nipple in his fingers. He slid his other hand between her legs, playing with her swollen clit. She writhed against him, her hands seeking purchase anywhere, before finally settling on his thighs. He was still wearing pants, having just unzipped himself, leaving her fingers to twist against the fabric in frustration. She wanted skin, she wanted to taste him, feel him. She wanted all of him. His hands teased her body into a throbbing expression of need. Below she could hear the party getting into full swing, and she knew that she needed to be quiet, to be as clandestine as possible, but she couldn't seem to stop the mewls of pleasure that were spilling out her throat. He slid back, just enough to angle himself, and thrust inside of her, ramming to the hilt. She was wet and ready, and offered no resistance. She squirmed against him, pleading for more with incoherent little sounds. He released her hair, pushing her back to her hands and knees on the couch. He gripped her hips, pulling her back into him as fucked her hard, driving into her with perfect remorselessness.

"A kiss," she gasped, hard-pressed to breathe. She was so close to cumming she thought she was going to die, but she need one last thing to push her over the edge. He was rocking her hard, and her grip on the back of the settee wasn't enough. She pressed a sweating palm against the cold marble wall behind the couch, laying her head across her outstretched forearm. Vegeta leaned in close to her, swiping her loosened hair aside so he could see her profile clearly.

"I told you. I'm not making love to you."

She curled her fingers across the stone, her panted breaths painting mist on the white and gold.

"Vegeta."

He paused, pressing deep into her.

"Say it again."

"Vegeta," she repeated with more force now she could breathe.

He withdrew, and she cried out as if in pain. He spun her about, lifting her up with strong hands on the backs of her thighs. Instinctively she wrapped her long legs around his waist, the straps of her red shoes scrapping his back.

"Again."

Face to face with him, she was able to look him in the eye. She slid her hands over his sweat-slicked shoulders before plunging her fingers into his hair.

"My Vegeta."

He was inside her, thrusting his hard cock in and out with intensity. His mouth closed over hers, and she swallowed his kiss with a moan. Her eyes drifted shut as the world exploded around them. Strains of classical music wove through the air, dancing on their skin, as touch and sound became the only things to exist in their world.

Rocked to the core, Bulma clung to Vegeta as he came inside her, his growling moans empting into her mouth, and filling up the emptiness that had been building inside her for ten long years.

They stayed like that, locked together for a long while as the world readjusted around them. Slowly Vegeta withdrew, prompting Bulma to unwind her legs from him. Without looking at her, he began tucking himself back into his pants. Bulma refused to be ignored so she took up the buttons of his shirt he had left undone.

"Can't be running the halls half undressed, Vegeta. You'll cause a riot among the women folk." She was still panting, and she had to resist the urge to lean her forehead into the hollow beneath his collar bone.

"Hn."

She left the last few top buttons undone, and smoothed the material across his chest. Wordlessly he stepped away, sweeping up her dress, and shaking it out for her. She dressed quickly, relieved that there were no wrinkles after its rough treatment earlier. She fingered the paper still pinned to her bosom.

"I have to go—"

"Find your _boy_ friend?"

She shot him a hurt look, before glancing away towards the ball room.

"Greet my guests."

He didn't reply, and instead swept the curtain aside so she might step out into the hall. She was struck at the awkwardness between them. Her horror of what she had done came rushing back. She was a cheater now, with a capital C. Worse, she cheated with a man who could care one wit about her. A man who probably wanted nothing more to do with her.

"How's my hair?" she asked absently while tucking a few stray strands back up into her twist.

"Better take it down."

She nodded in agreement, knowing it was far beyond repair. She took out the pins, but then realized she had no where to put them. Vegeta took them from her hand, and placed them in his pocket.

Bulma colored red when she realized something else.

"My underwear?"

Vegeta shot her a wicked grin that made her body heat up while patting his pocket.

"Don't worry about it." His grin was quickly hidden away behind a bland expression when Mrs. Hunt, a literary professor at West City University came around the corner.

"Oh there you are my dear. Such a splendid party. A wonderful idea. Yes, indeed splendid. Are you okay, my dear? You look a bit peaked.

"Just a little tired. I've been burning the candle at both ends lately. I was just up here getting some air away from the crush of the crowd. It's very hot down there." She fanned herself, hoping to cover for her flushed cheeks, and damp tendrils of hair at her nape. She was relieved that it was the professor who had found them. As a woman who lived in a world of books, she hardly noticed day to day life, much less the discomforted disarray of her two companions.

"You poor thing. You need your rest. And what might you be? A pirate?" she asked, blinking owlish at Vegeta from behind tortoise shell glasses.

"A prince," Vegeta replied curtly. Without a word of goodbye he stalked down the hall towards the corner.

"Not very princely, but he must be tired too. Lot of that going around. Well, the night is young, my dear. Shall we?"

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Hunt. Though I think I may be calling it quits early tonight." There was something desperate in her tone as she spoke. She watched Vegeta over Mrs. Hunt's shoulder as he walked away from her. For a moment she thought he wouldn't look back, that he wouldn't respond. He reached the turn, pausing for a heartbeat. He cocked a glance back at her full of heated understanding as he turned the corner that left her with a feeling of lightness in her chest. Without realizing she broke into a dazzling smile that nearly befuddled her guest.

Vegeta had barely disappeared when Yamcha came bounding up the stairs, dressed in his baseball uniform.

"Check it out, hun. I'm Casey from "Casey at the Bat." He held his arms wide as he spoke, a big, cheery smile on his face.

"Very clever, babe." Bulma forced a smile as he picked her up off her feet to engulf her in a bear hug.

Nearby Mrs. Hunt clucked her tongue. "Didn't Casey strike out?"

"Huh?" Yamach replied as he placed Bulma back on her feet. "I dunno, I didn't read it all the way through."

"Oh. And who are you my dear?" Mrs. Hunt asked turning towards her.

Bulma fingered the piece of paper pinned to her scarlet dress, with the large letter A printed upon it. "I'm Hester Prynne."

Mrs. Hunt nodded, a strange glimmer in her dark eyes. "Of course, you are, dear."

Together the group moved towards the stairs to join the party, but not before Bulma cast one more longing look towards the west wing of the house.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from DBZ. Surely that's obvious. Think of all the hentai I would have added. The good kind. Not the tentacle raping kind. I mean, really, wtf is that crap about?

A/N: I truly had no intention of adding another chapter to this story. I don't even know if I will add more after this. I guess it just depends on whether or not I have another sex dream. BTW do you see a running theme here? What is it about balconies? Maybe I have some sort of unrealized fantasy? And apparently issues about adultery. Hey, what's writing for if not for therapy?

Scandalous

Bulma sat on the wide, stone banister of her balcony, gazing up at the starless pit of sky where the moon used to hang. Her bare feet dangled into the void where darkness swallowed up the lawn three stories down. Night-blooming jasmine climbed the wall reaching for her heels, and she could taste the sweetness of it in her mouth. Her hands were fisted around the tails of Yamcha's white button-down shirt, her knuckles resting on the stone between her bare thighs.

Inside, through the open French doors, Yamcha was sleeping on sex-rumpled sheets. Kiss, blow, flip and stick. The same routine every time. He kissed her, she blew him, and then he flipped her over, and fucked her until she faked it. Kiss, blow, flip and stick. Nowadays it was without the kiss, and she was sure he would just rather be blown than bother with the stick, especially on someone who had been a sure thing for the last ten years. Sex for habit's sake was exhausting. She couldn't remember the last time she came for Yamcha. For her, the best part had been coming with him inside her. To be filled up and full. To feel his love and desire for her. To feel connected. No connection, no bliss.

"Thinking of jumping?"

She startled, nearly flipping backwards off the rail. Vegeta caught her around the waist, the heat of his hand burning through the material of her shirt into her back. Instinctively she clutched his bare shoulders. His skin was warm, and taunt beneath her palms. So smooth, she wanted to slide her hands down his arms, and up his chest, to never stop touching him. He stood on the open air, inches away from her, looking at her as if he had tunnel vision, and not even God could distract him from the prize at the end.

"Why would I?" she asked, hating how breathless she sounded.

Vegeta inhaled deeply, his wide chest expanding. His upper lip curled in a mockery of a smile, revealing a flash of ivory teeth as he shrugged in response. Bulma frowned, knowing he could smell her dissatisfaction slicked on her skin. He leaned into her, his heat enveloping her. Unconsciously, she shifted her thighs a little wider, tucking herself a tiny bit closer as his arm tightened around her waist.

"Where have you been?"

Bulma left the party early that night, a week ago, and stayed until dawn with Vegeta. She had loved every bliss-filled, skin-tingling, mind-numbing second of it.

Then regretted it ever since. Adultery was a sin after all. And she wasn't even religious.

Her fingers curled across his shoulders, leaving white, half-moon marks in his dark caramel skin from her nails. She darted a frightened look towards the darkened room, licking her dry lips.

"You need to go."

Vegeta frowned at her.

"He didn't awaken as I approached. Now he's not only a failure as a man, but as a warrior as well. Is there anything he can do?"

Offended, Bulma inhaled as she schooled her features into a scornful pucker.

"He's a good man."

"How so?"

"What?" Bulma felt disoriented. Somehow this conversation didn't seem above bar. One shouldn't discuss the boyfriend with the lover.

"What does he do that makes him a so called good man?"

"Well, he's—"Bulma wracked her brain for all the qualities in Yamcha she loved. She knew for a fact he was a good person. "—polite."

Vegeta arched a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Polite?"

"Respectful." She quickly supplied. When Vegeta didn't respond she added in a rush. "He's kind to others. Loyal. Brave. Strong. Good-humored."

"Doesn't kick puppies."

"Right, he doesn't kick—"Bulma's headlong babble screeched to a halt, and she lobbed a death-glare at him, before swatting his shoulder. The shoulder she hadn't let go of yet. The shoulders of which she had intimately memorized rising above her as he thrust deep into her.

Vegeta dipped his head inhaling her scent at the hollow of her throat, before nipping his way up the column of her neck to her ear.

"Why do you insist on discussing that failure whenever I'm around?"

"He's not a failure. And it's supposed to be a deterrent. Most people back off if they know you're in a relationship."

"That's not what I've seen."

"What do you mean?"

"From what I've seen, that when someone wants another, nothing stops their pursuit of that new partner, regardless of the relationship status of either party. As I understand it, the most common justification used for this blatant disrespect to others is, 'the heart wants what the heart wants.' Apparently the human heart is a very fickle organ."

"That's not true!"

"Is it not?"

Bulma wanted to defend her race, but Vegeta's words weren't untrue. Divorce was on the rise, and numerous studies had been posted claiming that human beings weren't monogamous creatures by nature. More fodder for the unfaithful.

"Are you saying you've never fallen out of love before?"

"Never."

"How is that possible?"

"First, I would have to have fallen into that crap-pool of shit."

Bulma's mouth gaped.

"Are you seriously telling me you've never been in love?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"But you're like, thirty, right? How is that you've never been in love?"

"When, do you suppose, I would have had the opportunity too?"

"I don't know. Love just happens. Clearly, you are no stranger to women." Bulma blushed at the memory of how skilled he was.

"Love happens. That's your philosophy? No wonder you humans change mates so often."

"You're one to talk, Vegeta. Since it seems to me you've done some bed hopping in your time." She felt of flash of anger course through her when she thought of him with other women. She couldn't believe her stupidity of being jealous. Especially given her situation with Yamcha.

"You don't have to be involved with someone to enjoy their company."

"You're just a man-whore." And the anger just kept coming.

Vegeta withdrew, her hands slipping from his shoulders. His face was coldly removed, making something ache deep down inside her.

"And you're repressed."

"I'm not repressed, I'm in love."

"Yes, that's exactly what I smell."

She threw up her hands in annoyance. "What exactly do you smell, Vegeta?"

He was on her before she could breathe. His hand pressed between her legs, and too late she realized he had undone the buttons to her shirt while they talked. She could feel the press of his palm on her mound, the brush of his fingers over her clit, and the heat of his skin near her bared breasts.

"I smell the scent of frustration and tedium. The tension of a climax that never came. How can he sleep so soundly next to you when every fiber of your being screams silently in need?"

The oxygen was gone, and she couldn't breathe. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but they didn't fall. She wanted what he had to give so badly it hurt, and she couldn't deny it any longer. Her head lolled back, and every male instinct in Vegeta recognized her submission.

"That's my girl," he growled in her ear.

He hitched her up and she was naked against his bare skin. Her legs wound around his waist, her lips pouting against his neck when her calves slid over the slick nylon of his shorts. Her hands wandered from his shoulders, down his well-muscled chest and rippled abs. Her fingers slipped beneath the elastic band of his shorts, and yanked hard. He helped, and they fell into the darkness beneath them.

He was hard and hot in her hands. He thrust up eagerly, and there was no doubt he wanted her. There was no luke-warm desire in the stretched tautness of him. There was only want and need. All of it only for her.

She was pressed into him, her breasts flat against his chest, her hand caught between the curves of their thighs. His fists were tangled in her long blue hair, pulling her head back so he could trace her pulse with his tongue. Above his head she could see the moonless sky, and she sighed with every ounce of repressed desire that was in her.

"Take me away from here, Vegeta, and I'll do whatever you want."

Ten years of training had her stroking his cock with more eagerness than she had thought possible in a long time. He was jumping in her palm, and she knew he enjoyed her touch, when he suddenly pulled away from her.

She couldn't decipher the look he gave her. His dark eyes were endlessly deep, and held so many secrets she was surprised he hadn't cracked under the strain long ago. However, in this moment she would have given half her fortune to know what he was thinking.

"People say you're selfish."

Shock suffused her body, making her toes curl with indignation.

"What? Who says that?"

"The time I've spent here I've only seen you do things for others. It's absurd really. Quit disgusting. How about for once you do something for yourself?"

She was dumbstruck. Her body previously tight with needful tension, and outrage, grew limp as the unreality of his words hit her. He had her off the banister, and against the wall of the balcony before she could gather the breath to breathe. She was full of tension again. The doorway to her room was to their left, and Yamcha was sleeping just inside.

"No! He'll hear us." She was in a panic, and tried to struggle, but he was a solid, full length man pressed against her.

"Then you had better be quiet," he whispered to her lips before sliding down her body. He had one of her hands above her head pinned by his forearm on the underside of her arm, his hand against her mouth. She parted her lips to flick her tongue against the pads of his fingertips, drawing them into her mouth. He stopped to nip the crests of her breasts, creating waves of pleasure that was coalescing in the base of her tummy.

His other hand was exploring her thighs, dipping inside and around, urging her foot off the ground so that he had her balanced in the crook of his arm. She had the hips of a dancer, and she was opened wide to him, allowing him in with no hesitation, as she listened to the deep breathing of her boyfriend in the other room.

Vegeta was on his knees before her, and before that moment if anyone had told her that the Prince knew had to kneel she would have laughed them out of the room. His hand was gone from her mouth, leaving behind a pout, and her arm free, but she just tangled her fingers in her hair at the top of her head. She was splayed flat against the cool, stone wall, her leg now shifted up over Vegeta's shoulder, her heel dangling against his muscled back. Her other hand was clasped around the door frame to keep her balance, and she could feel the slight change of temperature on her fingers from being inside the room.

"Someone should do something for you for a change."

The smile he shot her was full of wickedness, and she knew he _was_ sin. The kind of sin that led good people straight into hell while loving every step. She could feel his breath were she was wet and open. She mewled in the back of her throat, and arched towards him. He shushed her ever so quietly, the rush of air from his lips, ruffling her hair. His tongue was on her, hotter than any heat she had ever felt before, and so slick it was like fine silk. She bucked into his mouth, her hand fluttering down from her hair so she could bite her knuckle.

He sucked, and she bit down so hard she could taste the beginnings of iron in her mouth. She arched off the wall, and almost toppled on top of him. His strong hand braced her hip, slid up her waist, and over her stomach until she was pinned for the sheer pleasure of it. Something trembled beneath her back, and she lolled her head to the side to look down. Her leg was over his shoulder, his hand braced against the wall. His splayed fingers were flexing and she could see them sink into the stone, spreading tiny fissures up and under her.

"Vegeta."

He was standing, and shushing her against her lips. She could smell musk and sex, and everything she had been craving seemingly since the dawn of time. Her leg had slid down so now it was cradled in the crook of his elbow, and she was thanking her mother's sound advice that a woman's best friend was Yoga.

She was wrapping her fingers around his neck trying to draw him in, when he smiled at her. She had never seen such a thing. A real smile from the Prince that sent her heart melting into a puddle at his feet. He captured her wrists, and held them above her head, leaving her flat against the stone, and wide open to his assault. He was only close enough for the mounds of her body to touch his. The hardened tips of her breasts brushed against his chest in slow, prolonged caress that set her on fire as he shifted against her.

"Now for the very best part."

He was thrust up against her, red-tipped and throbbing. His hand was still planted into the wall, and her leg slid down to loop over his wrist splaying her dancer's hips as he bent his knees ever so slightly to slide the very tip of him between her swollen lips. Her eye lids fluttered, and between the shadows of her lashes she could see the intensity of his eyes, and the deep brackets of concentration around his full curving lips. His pelvis slid against hers, teasing only her clit with the heat and friction of his body, as he entered her with night-long slowness. He filled her. Not just the aching emptiness that comes with sex, and only relieved as a man enters, but filled her up all the way to her heart. She opened her eyes wide so she could watch him watching her, and she knew in that moment, that she could very possibly die without him.

He was sunk to the hilt, and she had to bite her red lip to keep from groaning. He swirled his hips, and her eyes rolled back. He withdrew with the same sadistic slowness, and she was swept with emptiness so profound that she was crying out. The breath barely left her before his lips were upon hers, silencing her sob. He teased her with his discipline. Sinking in and out of her until her body was ready to melt around his.

"Everything else is just foreplay. This is what it's all about," he whispered against her lips.

She came on him, as he was buried inside her. Her moans trickling down his throat. The wall shook beneath her, and he devoured her lips as he came with her. The world came to a shivering halt, and Bulma held her breath in the hopes of starving off time. The waves of pleasure diminished, and something hurtful and ugly rose up inside Bulma. She looked at Vegeta with eyes full of tears, and knew the pain of wanting something so keenly, but knowing you could never have it.

"Vegeta, stay—"

She spoke too loud, and there was a rustle of movement in the next room. Empty and alone, Bulma was falling to heap on the stone floor, bawling loud enough to wake the birds in nearby nests. Yamcha found her huddled in his shirt, the opened ends pulled tight around her.

"Babe, what's wrong!"

He was beside her in a flash, full of loving concern. He gathered her up, her head against his heart, as he lifted her from the cold ground.

"I had a dream that you were gone," she whispered between heart-wrenching sobs.

"Oh, baby. I'll never leave you. I'll always be here."

He turned to enter the room. Trapped in his embrace Bulma peered over his shoulder into the darkness, looking for something she could never have.

"I know. You'll never leave."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from sexy Saiyans, a.k.a. DBZ.

A/N: If you are going to have preternatural lover then you should have preternatural sex.

Scandalous

Chapter Three

Bulma paused in the action of rolling on her black, silk stocking as warm air kissed her bare skin. It was redolent with ozone and the oppressive weight of the summer clouds that lounged low and storm-laden in the sky. She knew who brought the elements of wind and fire into her bower without lifting her head.

"No," she uttered with unfelt conviction.

"No?"

Vegeta's rich, baritone voice sent shivers of anticipation down her spine, wetting her core. She licked her red-slicked lips; trailing her gaze across the cream carpet to the balcony doors. His feet were bare, and he was wearing loose blue jeans. His tanned feet were sexy, and that was wrong. So wrong. Men shouldn't have sexy feet. But he did, with long toes that curled into the plush carpet as if every inch of him, even his damn feet, relished the feel of anything that wasn't austere or harsh or anything to do with the hard business of surviving. She refused to allow her gaze to go above his knees, instead she studiously returned to the task of rolling up her stocking and attaching it to the navy blue garter.

"I'm going out clubbing with Yamcha."

"Sounds vaguely violent."

Her lips twitched. "Wrong connotation. We're meeting his new sports agent." She dared a glance in his direction, noting his intense interest in her underwear. "It's business." She was quick to defend.

"And you're wearing-What are you wearing?"

Her fingers, numb from just basking in his sexy-footed presence couldn't slide the clasp in place for the garter. Pretending nonchalance, she abandoned it and sat erect on her vanity bench; her feet tucked coyly beneath, her breast plumped by her navy blue push-up. Her hair and make-up were done, and all that was left were her sapphire dress and shoes. She met Vegeta's gaze from across the room. He was lounging against the balcony door in a polo and jeans. She tried not to notice how the navy color of his shirt matched her underwear.

She shrugged, lifting her chin defiantly. "It's not for you."

He moved so fast the storm-thick air rushed over her skin. Her breasts heaved with a sharp quick gasp, and her pulse fluttered at the hollow of her throat. He knelt before her as a knight would before a lady. She shook the romantic thoughts from her head, knowing that she was no fairy tale princess, and he certainly wasn't a fantasy prince no matter the title he claimed. She firmed her mouth, trying hard to stay in control of what little faculties she had left when it came to Vegeta.

"I hate it when you do that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Show off."

She watched with stilled breath as a wicked smile stole over his full lips. When he smiled, whether it be wicked or honest, it was as if she was spying someone else. A person that no one, but her had the intimate pleasure of knowing. He took her small foot into his large hand, and braced the heel against his inner thigh. Slowly, his eyes holding hers, he slid his hands up her calf, relishing the feel of silk all the way up to her thigh.

"I can't help being more man than you're used to."

She swallowed, and leaned back, her elbow resting on the rosewood vanity. He was so close she could feel his heat at the very core of herself, and her whole body ached to have him cover her. When she didn't reply to his taunt he dropped his gaze, pouring his attention onto her leg, his fingers dancing across the lacy top of the stocking.

"These are amazing. What are they?"

She gripped the edge of her vanity, nearly ready to throw herself at him. His voice was an aphrodisiac. She wondered if he laughed if the sound would make her orgasm. Even better, if he were to laugh while inside her. _Oh, God._ She tightened her grasp until her knuckles blanched white. She never thought to see any man so enamored with something as simple as silk stockings, but then again an alien like he may have never come across such a thing in the entire universe. For all she knew alien women dressed in atrocious paisley muumuus.

"Stockings," she whispered.

"And this?" He toyed with the strap, examining the clasp.

"A garter."

Deftly he snapped it in place. She swallowed as the strap tightened. His hand slid between her thighs, caressing her bare skin so he could reach the strap underneath. He smoothed the lace filigree belt, shifting his weight forward so her legs fell apart.

"I thought you were beautiful in red, but blue-I definitely like you in blue." He snapped the garter on her thigh. Her skin tingled as blood rushed to the surface.

Her pulse was racing, and there didn't seem to be enough air in the room. She could feel the blush of heat cover her chest.

"You sure know how to dish the compliments for a homicidal maniac."

He moved. Slow enough for her to see, but still heart-pounding fast. He lifted her off the bench and onto the vanity, scattering her cosmetics. Frightened at his sudden intensity, she looked away, watching as a silver tube of lipstick rolled off the polished wood and onto the floor. He was leaning into her, his torso between her thighs. She could feel the cold sheen of the mirror against her shoulders as she leaned back, baring her throat. He pressed the advantage, nuzzling her beneath her chin.

"If I was a maniac I would have killed that worthless male you keep ranting about, and taken you back to my cave."

His hot breath tickled her ear, and she laughed; a husky, sexy sound she barely recognized as coming from her.

"I said maniac, Vegeta. Not caveman. Maniacs have lairs."

The penalty for her humor was a tiny nip to the jaw. She struggling against his captivity half-heartedly, but she stilled like a doe under a wolf's gaze when she felt his fingers slide against the thin strip of silk that passed for panties between her legs. He curled one finger around it, his knuckle pressing against the empty hollow of her body as he tugged. His lips covered hers before she could protest. First, petitioning for entrance into her mouth with feathery licks of his tongue, then demanding it when she didn't acquiesce with soft nips of his teeth. She opened beneath him, her mouth and her legs. He pressed into her further, and she had to wrap her arms around his wide shoulders for support. Her plumped breasts were crushed against his chest, and she desperately wished he had broken into her room shirtless.

She recoiled at the thought. He was uninvited, and she had to remember that. She bit down on his lip, and shoved at his chest with all her meager strength. Snarling, he jumped back, wiping his mouth with his forearm. She watched him taste blood and froze. In the passage of a half a second she waited for fists or coldness in his eyes, any sign of grievance against her in the hard set of his body. Reassured when she saw none of those, fire (was it anger or desire) burned through her veins. She scrambled off the vanity, stalking over to the closet door where her dress hung, her blue heels settled neatly beneath.

Scared, sad and disappointed, she struggled to break the deep intensity of the moment. "I am a strong, independent, intelligent woman, Vegeta. Emphasis on intelligent. Do you know how many Pulitzers I have?" She didn't wait for him to answer; instead she flashed her fingers in his face. "Two, one in physics and another in mathematics." She swiped up her shoes, before stomping back towards him. "I am not ruled by my hormones. I am a woman of reason. Logic. Equations. You can't just come in here, and make me dance to you sexy little smut tune. I am powerful." She tapped an open-toed sling back in the center of his chest. She bent over to put her shoe on, hopping awkwardly. "I don't care how fungasmic you are."

"Fungasmic?" He was eyeing her wearily as she hopped up, and down like a one-legged, angry chicken. She popped up, red-faced, and poked him in the chest.

"Fun. Fantastic. Orgasmic. Whatever." She bent down to put on her other shoe, leaning against him for support this time.

Shod she stood up, glaring at him before throwing her hands in the air. Twirling away she retrieved her dress. "You make me freaking insane. A crazy woman. I can't work, I can't think, I'm ruining my relationship. I can't get through one meeting without thinking about your bulging muscles, and your tight ass, and your perfect to die for cock. No man is that good." She stepped into her dressed, pulling it over her hips. She struggled with the zipper in the back, spitting hostile, unladylike words in Vegeta's general direction.

Panther-silent he stalked up behind her. He swatted her hands away so he could zip up her dress. Bulma stilled under his gentle touch. She had to fist her hands at her sides to keep from throwing herself at him.

"Thank you," she told him when he was done. Her head held high, she checked her appearance in the mirror before turning back towards him, but he was already gone, the balcony door wide open. She sank down on her vanity bench, her face in her hands. The urge to cry so strong she had to swallow the lump in her throat. Vegeta was going to be the death of her. It was up to her whether it was going to be sweet or bitter, but how did one decide between love and lust?

Bulma tugged down her skirt for the thousandth time. Yamcha had no real interest in the sexy underwear she was sporting, but he wanted to make sure everyone else in the secluded VIP lounge knew he was with the most beautiful woman in the room. She looked away, sipping her Cristal as Yamcha conversed with the sports executive who kept collecting beautiful women at his side like they were Hummel figurines. Yamcha may be fingering her garter, but he was looking down Bambie's blouse as he leaned over to _hear_ what the other man was saying. Bulma's cool gaze scanned the crowd. Yamcha had placed her closest to the balcony rail so everyone in the club could see her, and from where she sat she could watch the undulating masses on the dance floor.

A flash of blue caught her eye. She turned her head to watch a man with black hair weave his way expertly through the crowd. Bulma's throat tightened as she watched him move. It was pure sex. Deliberate, restrained and with just enough danger to make any girl's libido sit up and pant. He was wearing a sapphire silk button down, a few buttons undone at the collar, and dark jeans. Blue and red were her favorite colors. She didn't have much in her wardrobe that didn't consist of those varying hues. As a result when she went shopping for Vegeta's street clothes she dressed him as she would herself. It wasn't surprising he had a shirt in his closet the same hue as her dress, but it was damn disconcerting that he made a choice to wear it.

He didn't once glance her way, but she was certain he knew she was watching. Her fingers tightened on her crystal flute as a South Beach blonde pushed her way through the crowd bee-lining for him. He tilted his head as she spoke, but with his back to her, Bulma couldn't see his expression. Not that she needed to. The woman's face said it all. The hungry way her eyes ate their way up his body, to the way she moistened her lips with a tiny darting tongue. She was advertising sex, and by the way Vegeta was allowing her to edge closer, he was buying.

When they disappeared into the shadows, slipping towards the back of the club, Bulma excused herself. Yamcha barely looked up, and Bulma barely noticed. She returned a few waves from sycophants of her wealth, shaking her head when they motioned her closer. She slipped down the stairs, ignoring how her skirt rose over her thighs, giving the VIP bouncer a peek of her garter. She moved passed him with a nod and a smile, allowing the crowd to fold in on her. She never spent much time on the bottom floor of the club, but she knew that beyond the bathrooms there was an exit into a blind alley. She scanned the crowd, but dark blue was too hard to see in the shadows and whirling colored lights. The hall for the bathrooms was crowded, and she was thankful that the VIPs had their own facility. She nudged a cluster of plastic boobs and spray tans out of the way, ignoring the scathing remarks as she forced her way to the back door.

With grunt of exertion she spilled out into the street. For a minute she was blinded. The darkness of the alley was overwhelming, and suddenly muffled noise of the club made her feel as if a bag had been thrust over her head. She scanned the alley, seeing nothing but shadows far deeper than those of the club. The alley was shared by a Chinese restaurant and the stink of old grease and rotted food made her gag. With the alley apparently empty Bulma panicked. She was turning back towards the door, when the shadows erupted with movement. Someone or something was on top of her before she could scream. She smelled hard work and soap, and something that was indefinably familiar. She rocked back on her high heels, knowing instinctively she would be caught.

"Where is she?" The bitter question slipped past her tightly clamped lips before she could choke it down.

"I sent her on her very disappointed way, but if watching is what you are in to, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement." He nuzzled the back of her neck, his arms wrapped around her in a cage of muscle and sinew that she didn't necessarily want to escape from anytime soon.

"Pervert."

"Jealous wench." His breath was hot and tickled the fine hairs on her nape. His voice, even spitting mean words, was enough to make her shiver with want. She pulled away from him, secretly relieved when his grasp did not loosen.

"What you are doing is crude, Vegeta. Tracking me here, flaunting another woman in front of my face."

"The way you flaunt the weakling?" His words were a growl, and for the first time she heard real anger in his tone.

"It's not the same."

"Oh?"

"We aren't in a relationship, Vegeta. Kami, you're the other man for crying out loud."

"Then what do you care if I fuck another woman? That's not very rational of you, Bulma." Slick and snide the words slid over her cold skin like sleet from a winter storm. She examined his words, dissecting the feelings boiling inside her with a scientist's cool rationale, but there was no explanation for the anger she felt upon seeing Vegeta with another woman. The hurt slicing through her when he sought someone else out.

"I just do." Her words were a whisper of torment. Vegeta was silent behind her, and the moment dragged on for eternity. His banded arms loosened around her waist, and she was able to turn to face him. Too hurt to look him in the eye, she buried her face in his chest, inhaling the male scent that was uniquely Vegeta's. His hands roved over her back, stopping to massage a tight muscle here or there before moving on. He coaxed her chin up, angling down so his mouth slashed across hers. With the touch of his lips all her hurt and bitterness melted away until only their passion, so strong and unexplainably intense, remained between them.

He pushed her back against the brick wall and something gooey slicked over her bare shoulder. She shuddered in disgust, arching away. Vegeta backed up, pulling her with him, eyeing the wall as if it was some sort of beast bent on doing them harm.

"What?" he growled when he saw nothing wrong, his dark eyes darting around looking for other hidden enemies.

"It stinks and this alley is disgusting. I'm not some-." She choked off her words, and pinned her gaze to a piece of greasy trash at their feet. Guilt drowned her. Yamcha didn't deserve to be treated this way.

"Not some what?"

She shrugged, her full lips tugging down at the corners.

"Some cheap whore?" Vegeta finished, reading the chaos in her mind. Her shoulders stiffened, and she mulishly refused to look at him even when he tried to tip her chin up with his fingers. When that didn't work he cupped her face in the palms of her hands. His touch was so gentle she could do nothing less than look him in the eye. His endless gaze never ceased to awe her. She could see why his enemies feared him so greatly. He was dangerous. It emanated from every pore in his body, but it was his dark eyes that were truly chilling. When he told you he would be the death of you he meant it. This was a man who never lied. Every word he spoke was backed up by the promise in his eyes.

"You are not a whore." He brushed his thumbs over the high bones of her cheeks. She was enraptured by his stare, by the reflection of her blue eyes in his dark ones. "You are a queen."

Her body jolted as if she had been struck by lightning. This man who never lied, had just paid her the greatest compliment he knew. Placement in life meant everything to him, and there was nothing greater than a queen. He dropped his hands around her waist, tugging her hard against his chest. With her tightly nestled against him, they shot up into the air. She held onto him for dear life, too afraid to even scream. Her hair flattened against her skull as they sped up into the thick layer of clouds. She felt cold mist against her skin, and the wetness of rain soon to come as they passed through clouds so thick you couldn't see past your nose. The rocketed out the top, bringing a geyser of fine mist with them. At the pinnacle of their thrust they pirouetted in the sky and came to a graceful stop. This high up the sky was a clear midnight blue dotted with diamond stars that winked conspiringly at them. The full moon's rays danced over the fluffy whirls, turning the cloud bank into a landscape of lush valleys and silver tipped hills. Bulma was awed by the sheer beauty of nature.

"Who wished the moon back?" she whispered, thinking that Dendi must have known the world would only be right with it back in the sky.

She was brought back to reality at the sound of a zipper being drawn. Her dress went loose in the back, hanging off her shoulders. She darted a glance at Vegeta, who was grinning wickedly at her.

"Here?" She gaped, flustered at the thought.

"Here," Vegeta confirmed with arrogance, and tugged until her straps ripped. Her dress slipped down her body and off her feet. She watched as it was swallowed by the clouds, lost forever.

"That was a two thousand dollar dress," Bulma commented dryly still staring after it.

"And it was worth every penny even if it was barely a scrap. This holster for your breasts however is going to have to go. I love what it is doing for them, but I like them naked and pouting even better." With a flick of his fingers her bra followed her dress down into the spiral of clouds.

His mouth was covering hers, and she forgot that there was even a reason to protest as his well-muscled thigh found its way between her legs. His rough Levi's chaffed her inner thighs as his leg pressed into her. His mouth broke away from hers and she moaned in discontent. Ignoring her, his tongue lapped over her pulse and found the hollow of her throat. She arched her back, rubbing her breasts against his silk shirt. She clenched the loose material in her fists, tugging at it until the buttons flew off. She heard a beast growling at her throat, then his shirt was gone and there was delicious warm skin beneath her palms.

Bulma started to fall back, but she was unafraid. She could feel the cradle of Vegeta's ki all around her, pressing into the hollows of her body, creating a warm hammock for her to lie back in. Through thinly parted lashes she could see the moon above her head, and the whipped mounds of clouds that she reclined upon. Vegeta was lavishing her breast with his hot tongue and teasing nips of his teeth, bringing her nipples to the hard pout he loved. There was an ache in her body that was becoming heady, and it begged her to press her thighs together in a useless attempt to alleviate the agony of emptiness, but Vegeta's thick thigh was still tightly wedged between her legs, roughly thrusting against her a pantomime of sex that made her want to scream.

His lips were on her belly, and she jerked in his arms. She thrust her fingers into his hair. It was thick and coarse and she relished the feel of it sliding between her fingers. She tightened her fists, pulling at him with a ruthlessness that was purely feminine in its want and need. Vegeta responded with a growl of dominance that had her wilting against him. His hand was between her thighs then, the heel pressing against her in punishment for her impatience. Her silk panties were damp and uncomfortable. He tore them away, leaving her garter and stockings pristinely intact. With his teeth he played with the lace of her belt that encircled her low across her belly and hips.

"Blue is definitely your color," he whispered as he delved lower, and she could feel his words on her natural fur. She bucked against him, begging him, pleading with him to give her what she wanted.

When his tongued slicked over her swollen clit she screamed at the moon, her body twisting in the clouds. His tongue lapped her again and again, always teasing, but never letting her fall over the edge of madness. She struggled against him, desperate. She wanted him. Needed him. Was angry at him for denying her. When she thought she couldn't possibly take anymore without expiring from pure primal need, he lifted himself over her, brushing his skin over hers up her entire body. His jeans were gone and then he was inside her. His tongue in her mouth. His beautiful perfect penis thrusting into her. They were falling through the clouds, and for a moment she felt their wet kiss on her skin then his shields were up and they were weightless in a thin blue shell.

Lightning jagged through the inner belly of the clouds, seeking out the energy Vegeta's shields generated. Lightning struck them from all sides, and white fire danced outside the blue shell, illuminating the strong features of Vegeta's face as he moved inside her. She wrapped her body around him, her eyes slit as she watched the fireworks spark just an arms-length away. The look of pure pleasure on Vegeta's face was enough to make her climax around him. Her body shuddering so hard that she felt like she was coming apart at the seams. As her body tightened on Vegeta, he threw his head back and let loose a primal screamed that rivaled the sharp crack of the thunder all around them.

In the moment of climax, the shield around them flickered, and they free fell through the heavens, the clouds rushing by them, until they were dumped out beneath. Bulma clung to Vegeta, still experiencing the last shivers of her orgasms, her screams of pleasure and fear lost in the rushing wind. As they fell towards the Earth, Bulma knew that dying would never be so good.

Driven to savor every drop, she yanked back on Vegeta's hair, exposing his well-tanned neck, and bit him with every bit of strength left in her body. He convulsed against her, and his snarl was animalistic enough to make her primal instincts shriek with the urge to bolt. Vegeta gripped her tighter, and spun them in the air, so he fell first with her sprawled on top of him. They slowed their descent, enough for Bulma to open her eyes, but not enough to survive impact. She realized for the first time that it was raining. The warm wet drops drenching her through. She looked over Vegeta's shoulder, her eyes widening at the last minute as they dropped into a cold, dark mirror.

The speed of their descent took them deep underwater. It swallowed them whole. Bulma panicked as the inky water streamed all around them. She could feel Vegeta hold her, but she couldn't see him, the darkness of the water was so complete. It felt as if they righted themselves, but she couldn't be sure. All she knew is that they were drowning, and Vegeta was still lodged tightly inside her, thrumming her insides even as she was dying. His lips descended on hers, his tongue forcing its way between her teeth. She struggled against his kiss, but then his breath filled her lungs. She felt his legs kicked, and they rushed upwards.

They shot out of the water, showering the area with crystal droplets. The spun in a lazy dance, still kissing, Vegeta working gently inside her, spent, but reluctant to let everything they experienced come to an end. Vaguely Bulma felt cold air against her wet skin and then she was settling against the earth cushioned by a crush of clover whose scent tickled her nose. The rain had let up some, but lighting still streaked across the heavens and thundered in her bones. Exhausted she closed her eyes, sighing as Vegeta's warm weight settled on top of her and his ki worked to dry them. He had slipped out of her, but she still had him trapped between her thighs, her arms wrapped around his back. He rested his face in the hollow of her throat, his rasping breath rapid and hot on her pulse. She caressed the dip between his shoulders with the flat of her hand, relishing the sound and feel of him all around her.

"I don't know if I love you, Vegeta." He stiffened against her, but she ignored it and pulled him closer. "But I know that I don't love Yamcha. I'm going to end it tomorrow with him. I don't know what we have or what this is between us, but I do know that I want to do it again, and again and again."

She was still whispering into his mouth as he kissed her fiercely. She smelled ozone and rain and crushed clover, but most of all she smelled him and it made her chest tight and her eyes fill with tears. Vegeta was going to be the death of her, and it was going to be sweet until the bitter end.

THE END

Probably…


End file.
